


Buried in Teeth

by mytimehaspassed



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Apocalypse, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-10
Updated: 2010-06-10
Packaged: 2017-10-22 09:32:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mytimehaspassed/pseuds/mytimehaspassed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s in New Mexico that you finally start believing in God.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buried in Teeth

**BURIED IN TEETH**  
SUPERNATURAL  
Castiel/Dean; Sam/Dean  
 **WARNINGS** : post-apocalypse AU; evil!Sam; character death

  
It’s in New Mexico that you finally start believing in God.

With Castiel, things are simple and easy, black and white, God’s rules like the burn of the cross on skin, like the slick taste of holy water in the back of your mouth. God’s rules like your father’s commands, saving people, hunting things, God’s Bible like your father’s journal, a map of everything you shouldn’t do. A map of everything you shouldn’t forget, swallowing cowardice like the bitter whiskey you drink, bathing your hands in more bloodshed than God ever will.

By New Mexico, Sam’s given you more scars than you can count, more scars that sit upon your flesh like leeches, raised and withered, bloodless and white. By New Mexico, you’ve stopped believing in your father and started believing in angels.

Castiel’s adopted your father’s gruff drawl, so when he tells you what’s next, what’s ahead, his stupid cheap suit, his stupid cheap smile, your hands are gripped white on the steering wheel because for a second, one second, you thought your father was sitting in the Impala next to you. You thought maybe, maybe, you could actually believe in a better life than this.

Castiel says, “If you speed any faster, Sam might not be able to catch up.”

Castiel says, “Aren’t you the one who wanted to talk this thing out?”

Says, “Aren’t you the one who wanted to save him?”

And you say, “Shut up,” pushing the pedal further to the floor.

***

You want to say Sam has been darkside for six months, ever since that time he finally saw Castiel. Ever since you finally told him about God, your hand holding the cross Castiel had given you, his face like you had just betrayed him.

You want to say something just snapped, but even the demons knew about him, even God had his doubts, Castiel’s fingers on Sam hissing at the touch. You haven’t touched him since New Mexico, where he gave you a bloody lip and then licked it clean, when he just couldn’t let go. You haven’t touched him since Castiel let you, watched you leave your Bible behind on the nightstand, your holy water, your crosses, took your father’s journal without a fight or a lecture, didn’t tell you to be careful, let you make amends or say goodbye or whatever.

You want to say Sam will always be your baby brother, the one who used to look up to you, the one you died for, but even you’re way past denial now.

Sam’s chosen his side and, well, it’s not yours.

***

It doesn’t burn anymore when Castiel touches you, not like the first time, raising you up from perdition, his voice bleeding through your ears. It doesn’t hurt anymore when his fingers graze over your arms, your stomach, smooth over wounds from gunshots, from claws, wiping the blood away clean. It’s a neat party trick, but not as neat as Sam’s, killing demons and humans in his wake.

Before New Mexico, Castiel was just another annoying sidekick.

Before New Mexico, Sam still believed in a happy ending.

You don’t talk about the war anymore, you don’t talk about your father, and you definitely don’t talk about Bobby, Sam’s handprint of blood on Bobby’s chest, Bobby’s pale skin, blue lips. Sam knew Bobby was the only one who had enough answers, Sam knew Bobby was the only one who could save him, Bobby’s books, Sam’s army, your belief in God. There are plenty of causalities on both sides now, but that never stops you from running, making sure Sam will follow you, making sure Sam will always follow you.

Castiel doesn’t get it, won’t ever get it, that love of a brother stronger than the belief, stronger than anything, even when Sam starts killing everyone you’ve ever known. Even when Sam starts killing everyone you’ve ever touched.

Castiel and your father’s gruff voice, he tells you to leave Sam for the darkness, that one day these angels of the Lord will come down and reclaim what once was theirs. That one day, there will be nothing left but blood, you and Castiel and the warm light that you’ve been getting closer to ever since you left the meat hooks behind. Ever since Castiel gripped you tight.

Castiel and your father’s gruff voice, you’ve been driving for days, but he’s there with you for every second, his cold touch on the back of your neck, his fingers slipping down the warmth of your jeans. Sam’s right behind you, but he’s lost his right to you ever since he stopped believing in God. He’s lost the right to touch you ever since he betrayed you for something darker, something more, something you could never give in to.

Something your father died to protect you from.

You’ll never know what God feels like, but for right now, Castiel’s fingers slipping down the zipper of your jeans, he’ll have to do.

***

Sam keeps hearts in mason jars. You found that out in New Mexico, his hollowed out bomb shelter like your father’s storage container in New York, like Bobby’s panic room made of iron, full of things from your past, things you never even knew about. The hearts are from people he’s killed, boys like him, girls like him, trained by demons and ready to rise up and take his place.

You wept when Sam showed you. Castiel just looked satisfied.

This is what he’s been trying to tell you all along, his voice like your fathers, his hand cold when he grips your arm, this is what he’s been trying to show you, Sam and his demon blood. This is what he wants you to know, Castiel and his rules, his black and white universe, Sam will always be on the opposite side of yours, no matter how much blood you share, no matter how much you love him. No matter how much you beg and plead and cry out his name, even when you know you’ve already lost him, even when you know nothing will be able bring him back.

Castiel and his rules, his touch like the press of the cross on your fingers, cold and hard and vacant, he might want you to leave Sam behind, he might want you to stop him, but nothing’s ever going to stop you from trying to save Sammy.

Because you might believe in God, but your brother has always been more important.

***

Castiel lets you meet other angels, other vessels that have prayed for this kind of redemption, this kind of violation, knees tight together and palms kissing. They each come with words from God, commands, rules, each shiny and new and amazed at the world around them. Your ears have stopped bleeding when Castiel tries to talk with you, your body has stopped wanting to fold in on itself, but even then he still doesn’t see you as special, even though he’s followed you since Illinois, since he first saw you. Even then, you’re just human, and Castiel’s just following orders.

This soldier of God, well, at least you have something else in common besides this, this need that rises in both of you like the ache of loss, your brother, his brothers, fallen or dead. Like this, his hands wide on your hips as press closer to him, your mouth on his, his chest to yours. You never feel his wings, even when you see them sometimes, just out of the corner of your eye, a black shadow that flutters and is gone, his nose in the crook of your neck as his hand dips lower beneath your pants.

Castiel doesn’t replace Sam, but he’s the closest thing you have.

***

Sam keeps hearts in mason jars, but Castiel’s the winner here, God’s rage in the palms of his hands, this soldier of God. Sam might like killing demons who get in his way, but Castiel doesn’t discriminate, all these bodies like a sea of blood, all these bodies of the people you could never save, even when you try, even when Castiel tells you not to bother, even when you can still hear your father’s voice whiskey-laden and gruff against the shell of your ear.

At least then you knew right from wrong.

Castiel’s black and white world, you might believe in God now, but you’ll never believe in these rules, you’ll never believe in these parameters, no matter how many times Castiel kisses them in to your skin. No matter how many times Sam breaks your heart.

Your father’s voice pressed from Castiel’s lips, at least then you always had something real to believe in, something that was tangible. At least then you always had your father.

And now you have Castiel and you have Sam, bound by skin and blood and so wrong, so perfect, Castiel’s hold on you, Sam’s touch. You might believe in God, but you have no fucking clue what kind of grudge he must have against you, because you might be the savior of the human race, the pioneer of everything that’s good and right in this fucked up world, but nobody ever said you had to like it. Castiel and his handprint burned into your shoulder, he might love you just as much as Sam does, but your brother’s been there a lot longer. Your brother’s been there for more than just the apocalypse.

Castiel and his right to your soul, he might love you just as much as Sam does, but your brother will always be your first.

***

It’s in New Mexico that you finally start believing in God, finally start believing the words that Castiel spouts about warriors and angels and the apocalypse, finally start believing in something more, something big. Something your mom used to have faith in, something you used to have faith in. It’s in New Mexico, but He doesn’t show His face until Colorado.

He doesn’t show His face until you finally kill Sam.

***

Castiel and his handprint of blood, of burnt skin on your shoulder, Castiel and his right to your soul, his love just as much as Sam’s, he smiles when your hand goes through Sam’s body, when it comes out with his heart, red and thick. It’s a neat party trick, but you’ve never been one to show off.

Castiel and his black wings, fluttering in your peripheral, he’s been waiting for this day just as long as you have, just as long as Sam, Sam’s black eyes wide as you pull your hand out, as he lets out his last breath. Castiel’s been whispering in your ear for months now, showing you how perfect this could be, how beautiful, Sam’s lips leaking blood, Sam’s hands shaking as he crumbles, as he falls.

Castiel and his hold on you, his God is the one who should be worse, his God is the vengeful kind, sending warriors to do his bidding, sending warriors to collect his followers, his stupid fucking heroes. You might believe in him, but that doesn’t mean you have to like him, Sam’s mouth and hands and his stupid fucking trust in you.

Castiel might be a warrior for God, might be your guardian, might have this hold over you, his touch and his mouth, but if Sam has to be killed, you’re only doing it because you’ve never let anyone else. Because you’re the only one who should be able to have that, your hand in his, his blood on you.

Castiel says, “It’s only hard because you love him.”

Says, “It’s only hard because he’s your brother.”

And you say, “Shut up,” sliding down Sam’s eyelids with your blood-covered thumb.


End file.
